


The Three Times Percival Graves Cheated On His Wife

by imoldgreg



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: A Lot Of Cheating, Alcoholic Percival Graves, Cheating, Credence Is About 18, Credence Is Engaged To A Dick Bc He’s Rich, Extremely Ambiguous Time Period?? I Have No Idea What Period Of Time This Is Set In??, Feminised Credence (Consensual), Fucking In Inappropriate Places, He’s v Pent Up, Just Assume It’s Modern-Ish, Just Sex Tbf, M/M, More Tags To Be Added Bc I Haven’t Planned This Out Properly, Percival Graves Is A Bit Of An Asshole, Percival Graves Is So Rich, Percival Is In a Terrible Sexless Marriage, Public Sex, Reference To Past Sexual Misconduct (by Percival of course), Slut Credence Barebone, Sugar Daddy Percival Graves, brief voyeurism, hung graves, reference to past child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-03-30 11:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imoldgreg/pseuds/imoldgreg
Summary: To cure my writers block have some shameless cheating and gratuitous smut





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this short fic will lead to my ability to write coming back and I can continue w my other works. Thanks for being so patient! I haven’t abandoned anything :)
> 
> This hasn’t been beta read yet, probably not the best written thing ever, but hope you enjoy anyway :)

Percival was supposed to love his wife. That was the whole point of marriage wasn’t it? A bond of love that couldn’t be broken, that solidified a future together, possibly even kids.

Like with everything, he’d tried. He’d tried so very, very hard. Normally when he tried he succeeded first time, he was after all Director Of Magical Security, an incredibly powerful wizard and had all the wealth and comfort he needed thanks to his name.

But marriage was different. Percival and his wife had been arranged to marry by their parents based on wealth and status. It was tradition in the Graves family. Percival had seen nothing wrong with it at the tender age of eighteen.

But now he was almost forty one, and the cracks in their relationship had revealed themselves to be devastatingly large. They clashed on everything, arguments became a daily, vicious battle. At first maybe it had been exciting, his boyish enthusiasm eager for a challenge perhaps. Percival didn’t remember. He was exhausted.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a bed with anyone, felt a gentle hand on his shoulder or arm, even heard a compliment regarding anything besides work. The Graves manor was so large they could spend days at home together and not see each other once.

Not only did a loveless marriage bring painful loneliness, but sex was out of the question. It had been years since Percival had experienced something as mundane as an orgasm. To say he felt pent up was an understatement.

Like with every high ranking official in America, social events were common, and almost always compulsory. Percival loathed them, the unbearable falsity of it all, especially the façade he and his wife had had to develop over the years. 

Pretending to love someone for the benefit of others was almost as crippling as when they were at home.

This time it was a dinner party, organized by an old friend of Percival’s, a man he’d tried very hard to lose contact with after his auror training had ended. 

Bartholomew Warden was a large man, balding with a terrible comb over, who although had never made it into a government line of work, had instead developed an unhealthy obsession with no-maj gambling, and made his millions through magically assisted cheating.

Percival and his wife arrived on the requested Saturday night, dressed in their finest, at Bartholomew's penthouse in the city. It was huge, and expensively but garishly decorated. Percival almost stopped in his tracks when he saw who greeted them at the door.

“Credence?”

Two striking feline eyes met his own, and a smile blossomed on the young man's full lips in recognition.

“Mr Graves!” Credence exclaimed in surprise, not knowing whether to embrace the man or shake his hand, so Percival decided for him and pulled him into a friendly hug.

Credence had been an intern at MACUSA, barely a secretary really, but he’d shown real potential, and he and Percival had got on like a house on fire. The boy had been removed from work after inappropriate advances by the male members of staff during the Christmas party. Everyone had been drinking, and Percival hated to say he’d unfortunately tried his luck with the boy. He was surprised Credence even let him near him now, but it seemed the sweet thing was eager to forgive.

“How have you been my boy?” he held the boy at arm’s length and drank the sight of him in.

It was barely a year gone but Credence's hair was long past his shoulders, brought up in an ornate clip. He hadn’t grown in height, but his previously stick thin limbs had filled out a little, looking slender and graceful. His face was as lovely as always – beautiful plump lips, high cheekbones and a pretty smile, all accentuated by skillfully applied makeup. It was good to see the boy in such good shape.

Bartholomew couldn’t have been treating him badly, the evidence of his wealth was clear by the delicate lace dress Credence wore, all black to highlight his white flesh. He was of course a distasteful man, but perhaps Percival had been wrong to assume that he had stayed the same since their auror training.

“I’ve been good,” Credence flushed a little under his intense gaze, Percival hastily letting him go and greeting Bartholomew instead with an overly enthusiastic handshake. The feelings from the Christmas party lingered at the back of his mind.

Percival was a good man. He had his wife, and Bartholomew had Credence, probably engaged judging by the size of the diamond glittering on the boy's finger, and they were here for a meal to catch up, nothing more.

“Ah Percy, long time no see my friend. You’re looking well,” Bartholomew commented, clapping Percival on the back and squeezing his shoulder in an almost iron grip. He couldn’t help himself frowning at the nickname.

“You've met Credence I assume?”

“Yes, used to work for us, a brilliant intern actually,” Percival cocked a brow at Credence, who had taken everyone’s coats and hung them up safely in the cupboard. He ducked his head at the offhand praise, smiling at the ground.

“Met him at the casino downtown, terrible place for a darling like him, so I brought him back to mine,” Bartholomew smirked as he spoke, leading everyone into the grand dining room, Credence taking his place next to him, opposite Percival.

“A knight in shining armor clearly,” Percival smirked back, sitting down when the others did. His wife had stayed quiet besides minor greetings and pleasantries, and seemed to outwardly sigh after glancing at the clock.

For once, Percival felt empathy for his wife. He knew exactly how she was feeling. Probably about five hours with this unbearable boar of a man flaunting his exploits – which were usually a lot more exciting than Percival’s.

They made conversation before the food was served, words flowing easier and more vulgar as more alcohol was served. Soon Percival found himself laughing uproariously at something Bartholomew had said, something that probably wasn’t even meant to be a joke.

When the food arrived Percival felt great. Why did he even hate social functions? His wife wasn’t causing any problems, actually chatting quite comfortably with Credence, the food was good, and thanks to the drink he had such a light, positive feeling bubbling in his gut, warming his throat. If you looked past the overall dislikeableness of the man, Bartholomew wasn’t even as bad as he remembered. In fact, his jokes were even starting to sound funny rather than vulgar and cringe worthy.

Credence hadn’t spoken much to him, he hadn’t spoken much to anyone, but Percival was sure the gentle stroking over his knee every so often wasn’t from his wife. Nor we’re the eyes Credence kept giving him, continuously meeting his gaze but it didn’t seem to be just a friendly kind of action.

He hadn’t had so much to drink his mind couldn’t differentiate between fantasy and reality had he? He was sure he was only tipsy, positive in fact. He couldn’t hear himself slurring and nothing felt off kilter. He decided to be upfront, emboldened by the alcohol in his system, and the next time Credence moved to leave the room for whatever reason Percival would follow him and ask him what the meaning of his behaviour was. Not that it was unwanted. Was it?

Percival’s opportunity arose when Bartholomew requested Credence bring in the after meal drinks and whatnot, and he quickly offered to help the boy. 

Credence shot him some kind of a look, Percival couldn’t work out what it meant.  
They walked into the kitchen together, cut off from the others by a wall, Credence turning to the counter to prepare drinks. The maid that had previously served the food had gone.

“Your wife seems nice,” Credence spoke quietly before Percival could ask any questions. He didn’t turn around from the counter, pouring a dark rich wine into a crystal glass and then moving onto the next.

“She’s..” Percival hesitated, thinking hard about his choice of words. Normally he’d just be able to come up with a simple 'nice' or 'lovely' or 'things are going great' , but something about the drink in his blood clouding his head stopped him.

Credence looked at him from the corner of his eye. He cocked a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“You and Bartholomew seem happy,” Percival said instead, leaning against the counter, closer to Credence than he should be.

Credence kept pouring drinks. He didn’t respond.

“Excited about the wedding?”

Credence froze. Percival met his gaze. He didn’t remember when they’d moved so close to each other. They were barely an inch apart.

He caught the boy's eyes glance down at his lips. A peek of a shining pink tongue.  
Percival wasn’t sure what possessed them. Credence was engaged, seemingly happily, to one of Percival’s ‘friends’, and he himself had been married for just over thirty years to the woman barely a few feet away. He wasn’t so drunk that he didn’t know what he was doing. In fact he was more than aware, and in full control of his movements. Credence had barely drunk all night.

The kiss was heated and rough, hardly any room for feelings. The rekindled embers of the Christmas party now blazed an infernal storm inside Percival’s gut, fueled by Credence’s eager responses and delicate hand expertly kneading at his crotch.

They had to be quiet, they had to be fast, but fuck it was hard. Percival wanted to savor every inch of the boy in front of him, lips red and swollen and shining , his hair tousled and eyes lidded. Percival crowded him against the counter, the poor thing unable to do anything other than accept his tongue down his throat.

When Credence pulled Percival’s achingly hard cock out his trousers he finally pulled away, to instead assault the boy's neck with kisses and bites, trying terribly hard not to leave a bruise but desperate to hear the soft whimpers and feel the buck of Credence’s hips at each nip.

It didn’t take long from there for Percival to bend Credence over the counter, his pretty lace dress pulled up over his hips and the thong he had on pulled to a side. 

Assisted only by saliva Percival was balls deep inside the boy, breathing heavily into his hand to try and stifle his groans of satisfaction. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt anything so tight and hot, so fucking good around his prick. He wasn’t going to last long, but in the situation they were in it might’ve been preferred. 

Underneath him Credence gripped the counter top, his breath fogging up the cold marble in short wet breaths. His thighs were shaking and his lower lip had been captured between his teeth to muffle the intoxicating sounds being pushed from him.

When Percival started thrusting he had to cover Credence's mouth with his hand, the boy unable to suppress his moans. He drove too fast too soon, but Credence was in no position to complain, eyes rolled back and drool coating the inside of Percival’s hand.

He was surprised no one heard. The sound of skin slapping against skin was deafening against the hard surfaces of the kitchen, Credence’s stifled gasps and whimpers deliciously fucked out and needy. His own heavy breathing and breathy grunts weren’t exactly the quietest either.

Percival thrusts grew stuttery and desperate, and within barely a few minutes after starting he came hard inside Credence, almost crushing the boy's face under his grip and bruising his hips.

Neither of them said anything, Percival tucking himself away and straightening his suit jacket whilst Credence pulled his dress back down and pushed his loosened hair behind his ears. He was breathing heavy, his legs still shaking. Percival hadn’t bothered letting him cum, but he didn’t dwell. He left the kitchen quickly, sitting back down by his wife’s side.

When Bartholomew swiftly picked up the conversation from where they had left off he breathed out heavily, incredibly relieved that he hadn’t heard anything. 

His wife said nothing, trying terribly hard not to look bored.

“Credence do hurry up, can you not find the wine? It’s on the rack where the rest of the bottles are, above the drawers,” Bartholomew rolled his eyes and smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Terribly ditsy that boy, but I’m not marrying for his brains.”

Percival coughed and adjusted in his chair, nodding quickly. “Clearly.”

He thought he saw his wife throw him a glance, but he didn’t turn to her. He might’ve been starting to intently at the man at the head of the table, his fist clenched too tightly around his empty glass.

After what seemed like far too long Credence returned from the kitchen , handing out drinks for everyone and sitting back down opposite Percival. He caught the shining giveaway of his own spend glistening on the inside of Credence’s thighs, clearly starting to leak out. The boy’s face was flushed and his lips were bruised, his neck a darker red than it should be in certain places, but not too obviously damaged.

They locked eyes for an uncomfortably long second before Credence’s attention was dragged back to a gentle scolding from his fiancé, leading to a large hand cradling the boy’s sharp cheek, a thumb brushing over his fat swollen lower lip. Credence sucked on it perfectly, settling against the other man's palm.

Bartholomew turned back to Percival, keeping his thumb in Credence’s mouth. Percival was only half listening to the conversation from that point.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence gets what he wants and Percival is helpless and flustered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writer’s block is slowly but surely easing up - hopefully will be able to start writing the next chapter for my on going fic, and possibly do another AU one part fic. Here’s hoping :)

There was an annual summer lunch that powerful MACUSA officials and several other wealthy invitees had to attend, and it was one Percival usually dreaded. This time around was no different. Perhaps he was dreading it even more than before, especially since he’d learned Bartholomew would indeed be attending, and therefore be bringing along his fiancé. Or maybe it was because this year it was his turn to host it.

It had been about three months since the dinner party, and Percival had made an internal resolve he was determined to stick to. He would be a better husband, he wouldn’t even look at anyone else. He’d been drunk when the incident between himself and Credence had occurred, he had to be. He was a good man, an honorable man. He wouldn’t cheat on his wife knowingly, no matter how poor the state of their relationship was.

She’d probably assumed Percival was sick, he’d gone out of his way to be nice to her in recent weeks. He’d even tried to rekindle any possible romance that had long since died by leaving nice flowers on the table or in her bedroom for her to find, a few times successfully managing to ambush her while she ate so they could eat together. The result wasn’t pretty.

The problem with keeping this resolve was, however, since fucking Credence in his own fiancé’s kitchen , it seemed to have … awakened something inside of him. All he could think about was, no matter what time of day, sex. It was as if he’d transported back into being a teenager again.

He’d started masturbating almost every hour besides when he slept, even at work he couldn’t stop himself. He dreaded to think how the cleaners reacted to the underside of his desk at the end of each day.

It had been so long since he’d had sex or bothered jerkinng off before the dinner party his body seemed to have shut down any reproductive urges, but now it seemed to have rekindled his old libido in full force. Finishing early or having any kind of refractory period or erectile issues typical for his age were non-existent. He would’ve been thrilled, if it wasn’t for it being a constant distraction from both his work and almost everything else in his life.

It made the lunch unbearable. Dressed in appropriate for the heat but formal attire, Percival tried his very hardest to keep his attention on his wife. He really did. At first he’d been able to breathe a sigh of relief – Credence and Bartholomew had yet to arrive, and judging by the man's general air he probably prided himself on being 'fashionably late' to almost everything.

He greeted pompous and impossibly rude attendees through gritted teeth, his wife disappearing to join the other women as soon as most people had arrived. They questioned his methods as Director of Security in MACUSA, told him how much better they would do at his job than him. He cringed at their crude choice of language.

His wife had prepared everything along with the help of staff they had employed for the event – money was of course no object. It hadn’t been appropriate for Percival to help, so he’d settled with greeting everybody.

Several other partners and wives of the officials tried to converse with him, flirt with him even – Percival was sure of it – but he was determined not to betray his wife again, even if he was highly aware of her scolding looks thrown at him from across the gardens, the over exaggerated tripe she was no doubt pouring into the ears of those she spoke with. Percival drank possibly too much of whatever the servers offered him. A few exchanged worried glances between each other but remained dutifully silent. 

When Bartholomew did finally arrive about half an hour before the lunch was served, it seemed that he and Credence’s relationship wasn’t suffering the same strain as Percival’s. The large man's arm was wrapped comfortably around the boy's waist for the duration of their entrance, and then it slid up to caressing his back and squeezing his hip. A few times he squeezed the boy's behind, to no physical reaction from Credence besides a shuffling of his legs.

Percival couldn’t take his eyes of them. All the morals and assurance that he really was a good, loyal man that he’d built up over the past three months dropped like a stone in water. Credence was fucking beautiful. He’d never felt such strong physical attraction to anyone.

He was dressed in some kind of sundress, terribly short but still fitting to the dress code of 'formal' with the tightly fitted upper half of the dress, cut off at the shoulder. He had on those terribly high heels again, his hair down in a loose braid, the majority of his soft dark curls falling free in a terribly adoring way. A scarlet red lipstick seemed to be the only makeup besides mascara that he’d painted his face with.

Percival was sweating. He loosened the top buttons of his thin shirt, ran a hand through his hair out of habit. A few loose strands flopped over his forehead as a result, but he ignored them.

Credence hadn’t yet looked his way, hadn’t even attempted. From the angle he was stood, Percival could just glimpse the curve of the boy’s ass from under the skirt of the dress . He tried not to feel bad about looking.

He tried to remind himself he wasn’t here for Credence. This lunch was about establishing trust between powerful officials and therefore giving yourself useful connections and contacts, not about how badly he wanted those endlessly porcelain legs wrapped round his head.

Percival tried to ignore the boy as Credence seemed to be doing with him, and joined a conversation about the current state of taxes in America with some older men wearing beige. He kept his back to where Bartholomew stood laughing uproariously with a few higher ranking members of MACUSA, Credence no doubt hooked to his side obediently.

It seemed ignoring Credence had the desired effect on his own mind, in fact he almost forgot the boy was there as one of his colleagues joined the discussion and injected some much needed humor into it.

Credence didn’t seem to take too kindly to being ignored however.

Percival felt a light touch to his arm, and when he turned and caught sight of the boy behind him he froze like a schoolboy caught in the act of some terribly childish wrongdoing. Credence had a sweet expression on his face, and Bartholomew was still chatting a few feet away.

“Where’s your bathroom Mr Graves?” the boy asked, his lower lip captured between his teeth.

Percival swallowed dryly, his throat clicking audibly. He tried running a hand through his hair again, loosening it further over his forehead. He suddenly realised how warm he was.

“It’s ..uh-“

“Come on Graves no need for that, the boy can’t follow directions, don’t you remember when he worked for us? Go show him,” came a hearty voice from one of the men he was stood with, accompanied by a heavy hand on his shoulder. The other men laughed gently, Credence smiling a little shy in return.

“I'll show you,” Percival blurted out awkwardly, blinking rapidly and walking inside with Credence close by. Maybe if he didn’t show any interest in the boy he’d give up, leaving Percival a messy few minutes to rub the burning desire out of his system for a while.

Although there were perfectly useable bathrooms on the ground floor, Percival lead Credence upstairs to the ensuit in the bedroom his wife slept in. He was sure there were people using the facilities downstairs, otherwise he would’ve definitely taken the boy to one of those.

“It locks by turning it to the left, and make sure you run the cold tap for a few seconds before using it,” he demonstrated locking and unlocking the door while it was still open so Credence could see, trying desperately to not look at Credence’s lower half. He was already half hard just at the sweet thing's face for fucks sake.

“Thanks, I guess I didn’t really need it after all though,” Credence didn’t cross the threshold of the bathroom, instead lingering near the bed, fixing Percival with a look that held no amicable intentions behind it. The older man swallowed.

Percival wasn’t sure how to respond, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine how within the space of barely a second he’d closed the distance between them, ravishing the boy's lips with his own. It was a rough kiss, too much teeth and tongue and breath, but Credence shuddered under his wandering hands groping and squeezing at his body, moaning needily into his mouth. It all happened very fast.

Credence dropped to his knees before Percival could begin to press him back onto the bed, instead tugging at his pants and belt until just his cock was free, achingly hard already and looking almost comically huge in Credence’s delicate hands.

Expertly, the boy slid his hands up and down his length, tight and twisting perfectly when they needed to, his red painted lips finding the flushed head and suckling sweetly. Percival groaned almost desperately at the sight, his breath heavy in his throat at the darling sight before him.

Keeping his pretty amber eyes looking up at the man, Credence swirled his tongue around the tip before sinking his head down almost to the base. He swallowed around him, his fat lips stretched over the girth of the cock in his mouth. Percival shuddered out a breath, gripping Credence’s hair roughly in both hands after finding nothing else to ground himself on.

The boy moaned around his prick, the vibrations sending shudders up his spine. Credence sucked like his life depended on it, bobbing his head up and down with such skill Percival could hardly keep quiet. He didn’t consider himself to be a vocal man, but Credence seemed intent on pushing those considerations to the very limit.

It wasn’t long before Percival found himself holding the sides of the boy’s head in both hands, his fingers tangled in his hair as he thrusted mercilessly down into that perfect wet throat. Credence didn’t gag, but instead made soft drawn out whimpers accompanied by big watery eyes gazing up at him beautifully. His own cock was out, not as small as Percival was expecting, and his nimble hand pumped it desperately. Percival could’ve released right then, either down the boy’s throat or all over his face, but this time he wanted to fuck Credence properly, see how loud and beautiful he could be compared to at the diner party. The guests downstairs and outside were forgotten.

When he pulled his achingly hard cock out of Credence’s mouth with a pop it was shining wet, a string of drool connecting Credence’s fat lower lip to his tip. A red lipstick ring ran faintly around the base of his prick.

Credence grinned up at him in satisfaction, biting his lip and letting go of his own length as he understood what Percival wanted. He slid up onto the bed without turning round to it, a cheeky smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

Percival swore under his breath, immediately pulling himself forward to meet Credence on the mattress. He crowded him terribly, kissing every part of him he could. He left noticeable dark lovebites on his pale neck, wrapping his large hand around Credence’s pretty cock, stroking it fast and tight. The boy mewled and gasped sweetly, his mouth open and his eyes lidded.

A few more elongated seconds of half drunk fumbling (on Percival’s part) and sloppy, heated kissing and Credence had pulled away. His chest rose and fell quickly, his lips swollen and shining. 

Percival couldn’t remember if the boy had been wearing underwear before.

He pushed the older man down on his back, moving to straddle his hips. Percival barely had a moment to catch his breath before Credence was sinking down slowly on his prick, aided by the sloppiness of his blowjob before, engulfing him in that unbearably tight heat.

“Fucking hell you little minx, you want my dick that badly hm?” Percival practically groaned out, breathing heavily as he slid his large hands over Credence’s white thighs, massaging gently with his thumbs.

Credence flashed a grin down at him. His face and neck were flushed, as was his prick, the loose braid in his hair long since ruined to the silky curls flowing freely on his shoulders and down his back. He ran his hands through his hair as he began to move his hips up and down.

“Mmh well maybe I missed you Mr Graves,” came a sly response, punctuated by soft breathy whimpers and moans as he sank down on his cock repeatedly.

He sped up far too quickly and Percival moaned louder than he should’ve, his mouth open and eyes fixed on the boy bouncing perfectly on his cock. Credence bounced his hips fast, rolling them back every time he came back down. He leant over the older man and kissed him messily, hands twisting into the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. Percival wound his arms around the boy’s middle tightly, pressing their bodies together.

“And maybe I missed you my boy,” he growled into the boy's neck, one hand tangling itself in the back of his thick hair, the other splayed out over his lower back.

Credence moaned like a whore, loud and girlish, and there was an obscene slapping and squelching sound that echoed every bounce of the boy's hips. 

Percival slurred obscenities and drawled out compliments, his moans gruff and breathy. He wished they weren’t clothed, he would’ve loved to run his hands over Credence’s porcelain flesh, squeeze and bite and mark every inch as his own, show the boy how real men take care of business such as this.

At one point Percival swore he heard a voice and footsteps just outside the room, and he struggled to remember if they had even closed the door upon entering. The sounds were hushed however, and he chose to ignore them. He wasn’t about to stop Credence doing such a perfect job of fucking himself on his dick to address a most likely fictional noise.

The poor thing grew weary just as Percival neared his climax, so he gripped the boy's pert ass in both hands and thrusted up inside him far too fast and far too hard. Credence wailed, hiding his face in Percival’s neck as his small cock spurted white ribbons of seed over the older man’s shirt and jacket. He released inside the boy barely a second later.

They lay clasping each other, a sweaty panting heap on Percival’s wife’s bed.

When Credence climbed off him and stood up again his legs were shaking, Percival’s seed immediately starting to drip down his legs. He limped over to the mirror on the dressing table, trying to neaten himself up. He made no attempt to put on any underwear.

Percival sat up a few moments later, breathing heavily and pushing his hair out his face. It flopped rudely back over his forehead, any semblance of the product that kept it neatly swept back gone. His wife’s image glared at him from the bedside table; a photograph of her and her friends from a few years ago. 

Suddenly aware that this was indeed her room that he was otherwise forbidden to enter, he attempted to pull the covers on the bed straight again.

“I’ve been looking for job you know Mr Graves,” Credence spoke softly, his voice shaky and a little breathless still. He wound his hair over one shoulder, no longer trying to tie it up again, instead focusing on the terribly smeared appearance of his lipstick and smudged mascara.

“At MACUSA again?” Percival stared at him as he wiped the boy's cum off his shirt. It stained the jacket.

Credence nodded, smoothing out the crinkles in his dress before turning to Percival. He smiled at him before redoing the top buttons of shirt that had somehow come undone. He ran his hands over the fine suit to decrease it, neatening up the collar for him.

“Credence, you’d shown potential as a secretary, you know, making teas and coffees for people and organising files, but I really don’t think you’d be able to .. keep up with any other position,” Percival cringed as he spoke, trying very hard to say it gently, stroking the back of his knuckles over the boy’s now makeupless cheek.

Credence leant into his hand gently, seeming to consider something before looking up through his lashes at the older man.

“Can't I be your secretary? I’d do such a good job Mr Graves, and I’d even do things the job didn’t even need me to do,” he met Percival's gaze, his eyes innocent, almost doe like. A total façade, but Percival easily buckled.

“I’ll see what I can do my boy,” he coughed a little and took a deep breath before they made their way downstairs together, hoping to every deity there was that people wouldn’t assume things.

Credence’s dark bruises on his neck and wet sticky substance on the insides of his thighs didn’t help. The boy moved back over to Bartholomew with a final smile aimed Percival’s direction, the distasteful man engulfing him in an all too public display of affection. He seemed to suspect nothing – the obtuse fool.

Percival gazed round for his wife. She was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m rlly bad at endings but here’s an ending I guess !!!!!!!

Percival had always been what most would consider a workaholic. Even back when his marriage still had hope of saving he’d spent far more time hunched over his desk filing through endless paper work than he had ever spending time with his wife, or even himself.

He had always put his work before everything, living on a constant diet of black coffee and hard liquor for the past two decades, sleeping at his desk for about an hour a night before ploughing onwards, barely ever going home.

It had only grown worse as he’d aged and gained higher status, no longer expected to go out into the field and fight, but to deal with everything through endless meetings and stacks of files.

Percival had also always been a man with a firm belief in the saying 'if you want a job doing right, do it yourself.’ That’s why he’d never accepted any help when it came to his job, especially never bothering with a secretary. They were useless, never doing things the way he liked them, or at the speed he wanted, so he’d refused every offer.

All of this, including his fierce work ethic that had never yet been challenged, suddenly changed when he managed to secure Credence a job at MACUSA. Despite disliking having one he gave Credence the long abandoned post as his secretary, allowing him small meaningless tasks of organising files in alphabetical order, or maybe the less appropriate shining his shoes while he worked, after he was reminded of the lack of education the boy had, and therefore complete inability to complete complex chores. Percival wasn’t taking advantage of his more than generous attitude, he was merely giving Credence something to do, so his paycheck felt earned rather than a hand out.

After the lunch in the summer Percival had really tried to pretend he was a good man again, he really had. He’d forced himself to avoid thinking about Credence, about when he’d next get the chance to fuck that tight hole of his, or feel those fat wet lips suckling round his cock. This proved rather difficult to achieve.

But once Credence started working in such close proximity to him he gave up the façade. What was the point?

It took less than a month before they started fucking again, and once it started Percival realised the true benefits of having a secretary who was so eager to please.

They fucked everywhere. At first it was just in his office during the lunch hour or after the day had finished and most of his colleagues had left, with the door double locked, and even then he gagged Credence with a hand over his mouth to ensure silence. But then with no clear repercussions announcing themselves, Percival became far too confident.

They fucked while they should be working, sometimes over the desk or maybe against the wall. Credence sucked his dick while he went through files, or even when he spoke with other aurors, the boy hidden safely under the fine mahogany of his desk as they talked.

Next it was in the bullring during meetings, instead of sitting at the President’s side he sat on the back row of seats with Credence, bouncing him on his cock as the speaker droned on about one different crisis after another.

Then Percival started booking out expensive hotel rooms for them to spend the night in, bored sick of sleeping in an empty bed with a distasteful cow in the next room at Graves Manor.

The rooms cost a lot of money, a lot, especially when they stayed for more than one night in a row, but for Percival money was no object. He had thrice as much as he needed to last him for his whole life without ever needing to work, and he loved seeing Credence’s eyes light up at the obvious expense of everything, clearly exhilarated.

He bought him gifts, hideously pricey items that Credence had expressed the barest of interest for. Bartholomew may have been rich, but he was nowhere close to the Graves’ family fortune, and he wasn’t the sort of man to buy things unnecessarily for others. His gifts to Credence would’ve been a rarity, and usually for his own gain; a nice outfit for him to wear on display, or some pretty jewels to bargain for a rough fuck.

Soon Percival grew too confident, too eager to express his love for Credence like a lovesick teenager in his first relationship. Instead of booking a few days in a hotel out of town he decided to take him on a holiday. Percival had never taken time off work, not even when he was sick, so to finally use his holiday leave sent his aurors reeling. 

He took the boy to Spain for two weeks in a luxury villa, and then they tried Italy and France for a fortnight each. Before then Percival hadn’t been aware of just how much he could cum in one day.

Oil massages had turned into messy wet fingering, sunbathing into lazily relaxed blowjobs. The people of European beaches had seen so much of their sexual exploits Percival was surprised he wasn’t forcibly removed by the first week.

Along with Percival taking Credence to the best tourist attractions and such, Credence had taken Percival to clubs and bars late at night, dressed gorgeously. Percival had felt old and terribly boring, his head throbbing with the loud bass of the tuneless music playing, his stomach churning with the stench of too many overheated bodies in an enclosed space. The age gap between them had never been so obvious.

He’d sat down heavily with his beer whilst Credence drank something fun and brightly coloured. He’d assumed the boy would be annoyed, go off with one of the countless good looking men who were eyeing him up the second he walked in.

But Credence had sat with him, keeping himself pressed to Percival’s side. They actually did manage to have a good time despite Percival being unable to actually join in with what you were supposed to do at those sorts of places. They’d always leave early, probably after less than an hour, but Credence didn’t complain.

Fucking in the street late at night on the way back to the villa or hotel was amazing. Barely anyone sober enough to try and stop them, the air warm and glittering with street lights and decorative lanterns. Credence was usually drunk from a single sip of his cocktail whereas Percival could with stand a far heavier dose with little to no effect, the boy’s moans loud and girlish in the mostly quiet lanes.

They spent a good month or two travelling from one luxury penthouse apartment to the next, each with stunning views and in prime holiday locations. Credence adored every second, practically glowing, with a healthy tan to his skin and free flowing beach curls, dark and dusky. He was the most beautiful creature Percival had ever seen.

Percival never realised just how much pressure the amount of work he piled upon himself had built up, and being away from it all on such idyllic beaches in the hot sun did him the world of good.

Unfortunately such a perfect, problem free getaway could not come without its disadvantages, and although only one problem arose, it came heavy on the day they were supposed to leave for New York. Some kind of mix up with the tickets for the plane meant instead of leaving early in the morning in first class seats they would instead be in standard class and be leaving around lunchtime. Credence being already terrified of planes and flying as a whole had barely managed the flight there with spacious leg room and comfortable private seats. Percival wasn’t sure how he’d cope with such cramped, noisy conditions that came with standard.

During takeoff Credence hid his face in Percival’s neck, pressed right up against him and clutching his arm. Percival had taken the seat by the window; the view made Credence ill. He covered the boy’s ears with his hands to try and ease the discomfort of the pressure change for him as they left the runway, and when the plan began to soar he removed them slowly.

“Shh, it’s ok,” he whispered almost silently into Credence’s hair, winding his fingers through it gently and muttering soothing words and pet names into his ear.

Credence tried to relax, Percival could see him repeatedly trying to drop his shoulders from his ears and breathe deeply, but he knew it was forced. It didn’t help that a complete stranger was sat next to him. Credence had never done too well around those he wasn’t familiar with, especially when already under distress.

When he saw the boy really had no hope in calming down any time soon, Percival tried a different tactic. He allowed Credence’s delicate hands to keep hold of his arm, but he threaded his hand down into the boy's shorts, taking hold of his soft cock and rubbing gently, his hand firm and reassuring.

Credence’s hips jerked in surprise, his breathing shaky. His dark eyes flickered up to meet Percival’s own, unsure, a sweet blush covering his ears and neck. Percival kept intense eye contact as he felt the boy’s length thicken in his hand.

“Such a good boy,” he whispered a little huskily as the poor thing struggled to keep himself composed. The man next to him was deeply absorbed in a book, oblivious to the actions of the couple beside him.

Credence whimpered minutely when Percival sped up his strokes, gripping the older man's thick arm tightly as it moved in such an obviously suggestive way. His breathing was thick and a little stuttered, his lips swollen from biting them. He glanced up at Percival again, eyes glazed, his face bright red. Soft breathy moans escaped him as his eyes fluttered shut, thick sooty lashes falling over his high cheekbones.

As he felt the tip starting to grow slick and the boy's hot breath against his arm, Percival pulled away. Credence whined quietly, rolling his hips desperately against his thigh.

“Please,” Credence whispered needily, his voice a quiet moan, his eyes lidded and an obvious bulge tenting his shorts. 

Percival smirked, his lips capturing the boy’s own in a heated kiss.

Without saying anything he moved his arm away from the boy, slowly unbuckling his belt. Credence’s eyes darted eagerly to the movement, wetting his bruised lips instinctively. He watched the older man with an almost pleading gaze, soft doe eyes waiting eagerly for permission, chin resting on Percival's shoulder like a puppy.

Percival tried not to smirk too obviously as he petted the boy’s hair, undoing his trousers just enough to free his cock, already sporting a lazily half hard erection. He nodded wordlessly and Credence settled comfortably down with his head on his thigh, clearly thinking that he looked as though he’d just decided to rest with his head on his lover’s lap. The man next to them still held his book close to his face but was no longer reading. Percival cocked a brow at his wandering eyes but refrained from mentioning it. He became quickly distracted, arousal spiking through him as the boy slid his wet tongue over his cock and enveloped it in his hot mouth, suckling perfectly.

Credence bobbed his head slowly at first, dipping all the way down to his base and swallowing around the thick shaft in his mouth before slowly rising back up, swirling his tongue around the head and drooling prettily over his length. He pressed his tongue against Percival’s thick veins and sucked hard.

Percival’s fingers gripped the boy’s hair tightly, guiding his head faster as he leant his own back against the seat, breathing heavily through his nose. The stranger next to them was now watching unabashed, his eyes wide with disbelief and his hand down his own loose baseball shorts, pumping himself fast.

Percival smirked, deciding to show off his boy to the man, pushing two fingers into Credence’s mouth beside his cock. Credence didn’t question it, instead trying to accommodate both thick fingers into his mouth alongside the prick he was already suckling on. It proved impossible, and instead Percival’s fingered ended up deliciously drooled upon.

He smirked as he withdrew his fingers, instead sliding them down the waistband of Credence’s shorts, going down the back this time and pressing the slicked tips against the rim of the boy's hole. 

Credence’s eyes, big and watery, glanced up at him, his lips a tight flushed seal around his cock. He paused his movements and gasped silently as Percival breached his entrance.

He pushed two fingers slowly inside at the same time, sliding them as deep as he could, the hole squeezing tight around his knuckles. Credence whimpered and shuffled his hips. When Percival started thrusting his fingers he moaned long and high, apparently angled just right to hit his prostate first time, completely uncaring if those around them could hear. 

He breathed through his nose and keened as Percival fingered him mercilessly, bobbing his head up and down fast as the man's spare hand found his hair again and guided his head. The blowjob grew sloppier with each thrust, pretty moans escaping as he tried to suckle.

Percival knew the boy had released when his entire body tensed and then flopped against him. He followed suit, cumming generously into Credence’s mouth. 

Credence grinned, blissed out, running his tongue messily over Percival’s leaking cock, smearing his seed over his lips but still managing to swallow most of it.

The man next to them seemed to have found his release as well, and was awkwardly trying to sort himself out; uncomfortably shifting in clearly sticky shorts as he forced himself not to look at Percival or Credence, face bright red.

Percival tucked himself away and captured the boy's swollen shining lips in a chaste kiss. Credence’s eyes were glazed and his smile ditsy, cuddling against him and leaning his head on Percival’s shoulder. He was tired and sleepy, the threat of the turbulence and pressure of the plane forgotten.

“I was wondering,” Percival muttered gently as he readjusted the boy so he could lean on him comfortably, his strong arm encasing his delicate body.

Credence made a soft noise to indicate Percival should continue, already starting to drift off.

“I have a penthouse apartment in the middle of New York, close to where I work. I never use it, usually I forget I even have it, but I was wondering …if you wanted to obviously, we could live in it maybe? Instead of booking out hotel rooms every few days, somewhere more permanent but still private.”

Credence sat up a little, eyeing him carefully.

“So.. I’d technically be living with you?” Credence replied, his voice soft and slow, piecing everything together in his head. Percival saw the penny drop when Credence’s face lit up and a broad grin spread over his lips. “Seriously?”

“Only if you want to of course..” Percival trailed off.

Credence nodded enthusiastically, cuddling up to Percival again contently. “I’d really love it.”

“Of course we’d have to go back home every so often, me less so for my wife, but you’d have to assure Bartholomew nothing’s going on still,” he explained, Credence settling back down but still nodding sweetly.

“He doesn’t suspect anything, I told him I work late, he’s really proud that I got a job y'know.” 

Percival cringed. He’d been so rapt by the shitshow that was his marriage he’d forgotten how well Credence and Bartholomew’s relationship was actually going, whether the man was a selfish prick or not. He hoped the boy was good at keeping secrets, or Percival would end up being the one to completely destroy a mostly strong relationship. Maybe he’d already destroyed it by starting this whole complicated affair.

He'd certainly destroyed his own.  
Percival hadn’t told Credence yet, about what had happened. It still didn’t seem real to him.

He’d arrived at Graves Manor the day before they set off for their holiday to pack. He’d made up a long and complex story in his head to cover for where he would be for the next two months to tell his wife, even though she probably could care less where he’d be. He doubted that she’d even notice his absence.

It hit him like a ton of bricks when he realised. He went into his wife’s room to search for his bottle of contact lens solution he’d somehow misplaced and to start spinning his web of lies to her, when he’d halted abruptly in the doorway.

The draws, cabinets, wardrobe and storage units were empty, some left open, displaying their vacant contents like a prize. His wife’s jewelry, perfumes and trinkets were gone from the dressing table. The photographs of her and her friends and family had vanished. The bed was made perfectly but clearly not slept in. There wasn’t a single trace of her left. You wouldn’t even have known she’d lived there for thirty years.

His wife had gone. He couldn’t believe it. She’d left him without so much as a note.

Percival had sighed heavily while surveying the oppressively empty room. He knew she’d seen him and Credence at the lunch in the summer, but he’d never really thought...

He really should’ve expected it.

The only thing she’d left, the only hint that she’d even been his wife at all, was her wedding ring. It glimmered golden on the window ledge, reflecting the late afternoon sun.

Percival had taken his off years ago. He wasn’t even sure where it was anymore. Had she been wearing it all this time?

A jolt of turbulence from the plane jumped him back to the present with a start.

There was no way he could return to Graves Manor any time soon. The crippling silence of her old room perturbed him. He’d only need to nip back every so often to gradually move any essentials into the penthouse, and that would be it, for the time being.

He twined a lock of Credence’s hair round his finger before releasing it again, stroking it smooth. He watched the boy’s sleeping face, pressed a kiss to his forehead as he held his hand gently so as not to wake him.

Percival hadn’t realised just how far he’d fallen in love with Credence; his secretary, a boy less than half his age, soon to be married to one of his friends. The press would have a field day.


End file.
